


Eye of the Storm

by bb-sock (saisei)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Established Relationship, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/bb-sock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick gets back from a mission. Phil's waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Storm

Nick doesn't do missions, officially, but a couple times a year he gets to go out in the field. For old times' sake, or old allies', or for the kinds of enemies you keep closer than friends. This time he gets back to SHIELD after four days and turns over his weapons, goes through decontam and debriefing, and reports on the deaths and the successes, discusses what the clean-up and fall-out will be. He's so calm he feels cold clear through his body, the ice in his bones holding off... everything.

When the crystal clarity wears off, he knows he'll be fucked, so he agrees to have a car drive him to his apartment. Phil didn't say he'd be by, but his shoes are inside the door and his coat's on the rack – for safety, maybe, so Nick doesn't shoot him as an intruder. Or perhaps Phil's here to remind Nick what home is; what it means to be warm.

Nick sheds his mission as he heads for the bedroom: outerwear in the entrance hall, guns in the safe, security systems turned on, clothes in the hamper. He's barefoot and naked as he enters the bedroom, and he raises his eyebrows as Phil looks up. The tablet he was reading is replaced on the headboard, and Phil flips the comforter to the side in invitation.

"I thought you'd be back earlier," Phil says. Nick's had years to learn how to read between Phil's lines; he hears a hint of worry that accompanies the way Phil's eyes search for bruises and bandages, but mostly just care, or concern, or love – pleasure that Nick's here now. Simple, and precious.

Nick slides into bed and lets Phil cover him, legs framing his thighs, large hands cupping his face as he leans in for a series of kisses that start soft and end up filthy. Phil pants into Nick's mouth as he rocks their cocks together, separated by a pair of boxers that Nick really needs gone, now. He shoves them down over Phil's ass and thighs, copping a good feel until Phil laughs and kicks them off and accuses Nick of having wandering hands.

"You got me," Nick says, meaning it in more ways than one.

Phil leans down to rest his forehead against Nick's and just breathes for a moment. Then he pulls back and says, "Sixty-nine."

Of fucking course, because the last time was a _disaster_ , and Phil never gives up until he can do something _right_.

"You're on the bottom," he tells Phil, "so there'll be no more falling on my face and drowning me in come."

"What a way to go, though," Phil says. Nick flips him over on his back quick enough all Phil's air goes out in an undignified snort, and Nick flicks his tongue over the nipple that's now conveniently close. He wraps his fist around Phil's cock and pumps it slow. When he raises his head, Phil's staring at him like he's lost.

Nick figures the easiest way to direct him to his dick is to just stick it in Phil's mouth, which has the bonus of keeping Phil from complaining, though he does moan with appropriate enthusiasm as Nick slides his mouth down over Phil's cock until his lips meet his fingers. This isn't his favorite sex position, but there's something satisfying in the act on an almost spiritual level. They're not just sucking each other off, they're a completed circuit with energy flowing from one to the other and back again. Basically a metaphor in fellatio for their whole relationship.

Nick needs Phil like he needs to come, a building pressure that clears his head of thoughts. Phil is devouring him, his hands grabbing greedy, kneading Nick's ass, thumbs sliding along the crack, then scratching up to his sides, where Nick's slick with sweat. Phil uses his tongue a lot in oral, like he's learning Nick by touch. Learning how to take Nick apart.

Nick tries to give as good as he gets, despite the distraction. Phil's got sensitive balls, but Nick licks his palm wet and cups them as he takes Phil in deep and pulls back slow, until the head of his cock's just circled by his lips. He can taste come already, and he _wants_ it. The world's a fucking complicated place, full of super-powered beings and terrorists, and some days he half goes crazy trying to stay on the side of good and righteous – hell, even to figure out which side that is.

But inside these walls – where he's inside Phil and Phil's inside him – the simplicity of want and need is everything.

He takes Phil as deep as he can, hollowing his cheeks as he rubs his thumb gentle over the softness of Phil's sac, and is rewarded with a hot rush of air around his cock as Phil cries out and comes, shaking, his cock throbbing, toes curling into the sheets and fingertips holding bruising tight. Nick swallows and rubs his hands along Phil's thighs and nearly rolls to the side to finish himself off in desperation, but then Phil's mouth closes around him again. He's doing that goddamn thing with his tongue right under the head of Nick's cock and he's gone, head snapping back with a shout, spine arching, utterly invincible.

He manages to roll clumsily to the side – lesson learned from last time – and then sprawls there, arms outstretched, chest heaving as he appreciates the afterglow.

Phil twists around, limbs going every which way, and kisses him lazy, sloppy, and loud. Nick slides his arms around Phil's waist and closes his eye.

"Honey, I'm home," he says, and knows he's grinning like a loon. He doesn't care. He can feel Phil's warmth all the way through him, right down into his heart.


End file.
